Thank You, Next: A perfect, uplifting and funny romantic comedy

by Sophie Ranald

  ‘Do you mean bloody? I hate bloody meat – it freaks me right out.’

  ‘Me too. But it won’t freak him out, so you’ll have to learn to like it, fast.’

  ‘Okay, fine. So steak. And what else?’

  ‘Bacon.’

  Dani boggled at me. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Not really. But I bet he’d be made up if you did serve bacon on the side. Or eggs. I’ve been a chef for a long time and I know my market. But I’ll send you some easy recipes for salads and stuff.’

  ‘You’re a star. So what happened to you on Saturday, anyway? One minute you were there and the next I looked around and you’d vanished.’

  I pulled up my Lycra leggings to show her the impressive scabs that had formed on both my knees. ‘I fell over, like a plonker. I’m crap at walking in heels.’

  ‘Oh no! You poor thing! Ouch, that looks really painful. And I wasn’t even there to help.’

  ‘It’s okay. Someone else helped me.’

  Dani’s perfectly microbladed eyebrows rose enquiringly, and I spilled out the whole story of how Jude had stopped and looked after me, and how we’d gone back to my flat.

  ‘Oh my God, that’s so cool! So romantic! And so did you…?’

  ‘Not that night. He fell asleep. But the next morning.’

  ‘And was it amazing?’

  I paused. Part of me wanted to big it up, give Dani the romance she was craving, and myself the reassurance that I longed for just as much. But I couldn’t do that – I felt bad enough that I hadn’t told her exactly what I thought about Fabian, even though I had tried to warn her and she wouldn’t have listened anyway. At least when it came to my own love life I could be straight with her.

  ‘Not really, if I’m honest. But you know how it is, the first time.’

  That’s what I’d told myself, afterwards. Only about ten minutes after that first kiss, to be exact. Sex with Jude had been perfunctory and clumsy, and quite frankly the best thing about it had been the fact that it hadn’t gone on for longer. But there’d still been that connection, that intensity in the way he’d looked at me with his amazing eyes, greeny-brown flecked with gold, like a forest pool in dappled sunlight. The way he’d held me, close and tenderly, until he’d fallen asleep again and I’d had to extract myself from his arms before getting ready for work.

  It would get better, I’d assured myself. We’d get used to each other, learn how each other’s bodies worked and what made each other tick. Far better, I’d rationalised, to have room for improvement than to start off with a bang and then for it all to go downhill from there. Sex with Seth had been mind-blowing the first time, after all, and where had that got me?

  Dani interrupted my musings. ‘I wonder if Friday will be my first time with Fabian. God, I’m so nervous. What if I’m crap? I’m going to have to book in for a fanny wax. And an everything-else wax. Just in case. But I’m sorry it wasn’t great for you. Was the next time better?’

  I sighed. ‘There hasn’t been a next time.’

  ‘What? Why not?’

  ‘Because when I went up to my flat during my break, he’d gone.’

  ‘Gone?’

  I nodded, remembering the feeling of hollow shock I’d felt when I pushed open the door to the empty flat and he’d disappeared, with only the imprint of his head on my pillow reminding me that he’d been there at all.

  ‘That could be okay though, couldn’t it? Like, maybe he had to get back to his mum’s place or whatever. Maybe there was an emergency and he knew you were working so he didn’t want to interrupt you. He’s got your number, right?’

  ‘Wrong. He left a note, just saying thanks for the bed and other stuff. I mean, seriously. Like a shag was part of the service that started with beans on toast.’

  Gloomily, I remembered what the app had said when I checked it, once I’d finished staring around the empty flat in confusion, like Jude was going to jump out from under the bed and say, ‘Ha! Fooled you!’

  Clever, curious and charismatic, your Gemini man can charm the birds out of the trees. But the Twins’ boredom threshold is notoriously low, and they can be fickle in romantic relationships.

  So, after one night, I’d bored him. Which was just fabulous for my ego.

  ‘Okay. I guess that is a bit shit. But he can find you if he wants to. It would take five seconds to get your last name off the pub’s website and then you’re on social media and he could just reach out, couldn’t he?’

  ‘He could. If he wanted to. But I’m not sure he does. Why would he have just fucked off like that if he did?’

  ‘Men!’ Dani sighed. ‘Honestly, I don’t know why we bother.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  ‘They’re just shits, aren’t they?’

  ‘A total waste of time. Seriously, I wish I was a lesbian.’

  ‘That must be so great. Imagine, you’d be able to borrow each other’s clothes.’

  ‘Your flat would always smell amazing.’

  ‘And you’d never have to worry about a condom bursting ever again.’

  ‘Total life goals,’ I said. ‘Anyway. I’d better get back on Tinder and find my next date.’

  ‘You’re not giving up, then?’

  ‘How can I? It’s not like anything else is working out that brilliantly for me, is it?’

  Dani gave my shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. ‘So you’re okay to send me some recipes, then? And lend me the meat thermometer thingy?’

  So clearly she wasn’t quite ready to give up on men yet either.

  On my way back to work, I popped into Craft Fever to see if the owner, Archie, had got in the locally made cider we’d ordered, which Robbie had thought would be brilliant in a chicken and leek pie. But there was already a customer in there, buying some of the honey Archie’s sister made from the hives on the roof of her nearby apartment.

  The guy looked familiar, which was nothing new – lots of the Ginger Cat regulars were customers of Archie’s too. But he wasn’t a regular. He was – I stared so hard at his back, trying to place him, he must have practically got scorched by the laser beams of my eyes – Adam! Adam, the awkward, monosyllabic cat lover who I’d tried to persuade to be the Ginger Cat’s official Dungeon Master, but who had never got in touch and not been in the pub since the first and last time I’d seen him there.

  I’d assumed that he had decided against moving to the area, after all, and I was going to have to get my skates on and find another Dungeon Master somehow. But here he was, so clearly that wasn’t the case.

  ‘If it crystallises, just stand the jar in hot water for a couple of minutes,’ Archie said, handing over a paper bag.

  ‘Cheers,’ Adam said, fumbling his phone out of his pocket and tapping it on the card reader. ‘Got to try and help bees, right?’

  Archie nodded. ‘Numbers are falling precipitously all over the world because of pesticide use and disease. Poor little guys – girls, rather. They need us.’

  ‘And so much of the honey you buy in supermarkets is basically industrially produced,’ I cut in. ‘It’s like battery farming only for bees.’

  Adam turned around and looked at me, blankly at first and then with dawning recognition.

  ‘Hey, Zoë,’ Archie said. ‘We’ve got your cider. I’ll drop a crate round later.’

  ‘That would be great, thanks. You’ll get a chicken pie on the house as a thank you when Robbie’s nailed the recipe. Oh, hello. It’s Adam, isn’t it?’

  ‘Uh, hi, Zoë,’ Adam said, clutching his jar of honey so tightly I worried he might smash it.

  The doorbell pinged with the arrival of another customer, and Adam turned to leave. But I wasn’t going to let him get away that easily – I followed on his heels, keeping a bright and breezy smile on my face.

  ‘So you’re a local now?’ I asked.

  Reluctantly, Adam nodded. ‘I moved in yesterday. The flat was okay, once I got the landlord to agree to paint it.’

  ‘And you’ll be needing a local pub,’ I said cheer
ily.

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t go out much, if I’m honest. I work long hours.’

  ‘A local pub with a cat,’ I continued.

  Adam looked around like he was hoping a hole in the ground might open and swallow him, or the hand of God reach from above and scoop him up.

  ‘I’m so happy to have bumped into you,’ I carried on, ignoring his discomfort. ‘Because the first of the D&D games is in just over a week and we still haven’t found a Dungeon Master. I know you expressed an interest and since you’re living in the area now, you’ll be able to come on board. It’s absolutely ideal.’

  Adam opened his mouth as if he was going to point out that he hadn’t done any such thing; in fact, it was me who’d begged him to say he’d consider giving it a try. So I didn’t give him the chance.

  ‘We’ve got six players involved,’ I forged relentlessly on. ‘Two of them work at the pub – me and Freddie, who’s one of the bar staff – and the others are just young regulars who live locally. Archie’s coming with his girlfriend. So it’s really very much a family affair. And none of us have played before so there’s no high expectations and no pressure. It’s just a bit of fun really. And as the DM, you’ll get a free meal, and I expect the players will shout your drinks.’

  I had no idea how much Adam earned, but who doesn’t like free stuff? I don’t know if it was that or just my forceful positivity, but all at once the fight went out of him.

  ‘Okay, fine,’ he said, ‘I’ll do it. But I’m only committing to the first game, and if I’m rubbish I won’t do it again.’

  ‘You won’t be rubbish.’ I gave him what I hoped was an encouraging smile. ‘Honestly, this is just such good news. I can’t wait to tell Alice. She’s the landlady – you’ll meet her next time you come in, I’m sure. It’s so amazing, my horoscope said today that a dark stranger would bring good news, and look – you’re him!’

  Adam looked at me like I’d just casually mentioned going along to a Scientology meeting or something.

  ‘You do know that stuff’s utter crap, don’t you?’ he said.

  I bristled. ‘I know some people think that. But a lot of it is surprisingly accurate, actually. I use this app that—’

  ‘Tells you your star sign – whatever it is – is sometimes insecure, especially with people you don’t know well. And that you may appear confident on the surface, but have doubts about your place in the world. And that you always like to see the good in others, and believe the world would be a better place if more people felt free to display their true generosity of spirit?’

  It was my turn to look startled. ‘What, you’ve got Stargazer on your phone, too?’

  Adam snorted. ‘Of course I haven’t. It’s the way all these things work, coming up with a load of waffle that everyone knows is true about themselves, or wants to be true. It’s all a con, like tarot reading or psychics.’

  ‘But that’s just not the case. I mean, the other day I went on a date with a man who was literally exactly what his star sign said he’d be.’

  ‘That would be your own cognitive bias. Anyway, here’s my number.’ He rattled off the eleven digits and I frantically typed them into my phone. ‘I’ll get cracking planning a game.’

  ‘And I’ll look forward to seeing you,’ I said, wondering if he ever smiled at anyone who didn’t have four legs, whiskers and a tail.

  That night, alone again in my flat, I turned back to the apps on my phone: the one that would tell me what man I was to try and date next, and the one that would help me to find him. Like evil twins, I thought bitterly.

  Twins. Gemini. Another reminder of Jude. Maybe the sex hadn’t been that great for him either and that was why he’d left, giving me no way to contact him. Maybe that was how things worked now. It was how it worked for Robbie, and it was how it had worked for Seth. Maybe I needed to just accept that, learn to enjoy a series of sexual encounters that weren’t going to lead to anything, until… What? Until Mr Right suddenly popped up out of nowhere by some magical coincidence?

  Online dating was it for me, for now, I realised bitterly. I was just going to have to be persistent and see what the zodiac had in store for me next.

  It had better get its act together though, because on its present form, I was not impressed.

  ‘Right then, Cancer man,’ I said, with more resignation than enthusiasm. ‘Show me what you’ve got.’

  Frazzle hopped up and took his place at my feet, and I started reading.

  Your Cancer guy might have ambitions in the workplace, but home is definitely where his heart is. As the crab carries its shell on its back, so Cancer’s mind always returns to the domestic sphere. However much he enjoys travel and the company of friends, ultimately home and – in the future – family are where his priorities lie.

  Fair do’s, I thought. You wouldn’t catch Mr Cancer fucking off without a word after I’d made him beans on toast with extra chilli sauce, would you?

  For flighty, fickle Aquarius, with her head always more or less in the clouds, this can be frustrating. She craves intellectual adventure and is constantly drawn to the company of like-minded souls and the higher realm of the spirit; he wants to set a rota for taking out the bins. In order for this relationship to work long-term, Cancer needs to cut his lady loose and let her pursue interests outside the home, perhaps even in a true reversal of roles in which the man of the house becomes the main home-maker and caregiver for the couple’s children.

  Steady on, I told the app. I haven’t even met the man and you’re already giving us two kids and a picket fence.

  But I allowed my mind to drift into a fantasy in which I had just that. I came home from work to find my Cancerean husband reading our children their bedtime story. In the morning, he’d be giving the kids their breakfast while I got ready for my day. The house would be clean, the bills paid on time, the dog taken for walks.

  Hold on, what dog? How come we’ve suddenly got a dog? But I was pretty certain that this man, this family-focused homebody, would be a dog person.

  ‘What do you reckon to that, Frazzle?’ I asked.

  Frazz turned his amber eyes on me, like two traffic lights saying, ‘Slow the hell down right now.’

  ‘Okay. Maybe the dog would be up for negotiation,’ I told him.

  A couple of days later on a glorious early summer evening, the Ginger Cat’s tiny beer garden heaving with people, Robbie and I were discussing whether it would be worth getting a mobile fish and chips van out there to relieve some of the pressure in the kitchen, while sweating over the deep-fat fryer.

  ‘It would pay for itself in no time,’ I said.

  ‘And we could work outside, instead of roasting in here,’ he agreed. ‘At least, one of us could.’

  ‘That would be you then, I take it?’

  ‘Well, not necessarily.’ Robbie ducked his head. ‘I mean, it’s just that I bet it would attract loads of families, and I’m way better at dealing with kids than you.’

  His words reminded me of my impending date and my fantasy of life with a Cancerean husband.

  ‘Have you ever thought about being a father?’ I asked.

  ‘I always reckoned I’d be a hell of a lot better at it than my old man,’ Robbie said, turning courgette falafels over in the boiling oil. ‘But then, your cat would probably be a better dad than him. Walked out when I was twelve and my little sister was three and Mum was up the stick with my brother. Loser.’

  ‘I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard.’

  ‘Not as hard as it would’ve been if he’d stayed. He was fuck-all help anyway. But at least when he was around Mum could pretend there was a responsible adult to look after me and Tia when she went to work. After that, it was just me taking care of Tia and Sammy, and my nan when she moved in with us after her dementia got bad.’

  ‘That must have been enough to put you off having caring responsibilities for life.’

  ‘God, no! I love kids. And older folk. I love looking after people. That’s w
hy I love cooking. It’s nurturing, isn’t it?’

  My knife stopped in mid-chop over a heap of shallots, garlic and mint. I’d never thought of it that way – ever. To me, it was an intellectual challenge, and a sensory one, ideally with a plate of something tasty at the end. I saw, now, why Robbie had been so eager to take the job at the Ginger Cat – persuaded by the whole community-hub thing, starry-eyed over our vision of it as a local asset, a refuge from hunger and loneliness.

  ‘I suppose it is,’ I said. ‘But kids? Ones of your own?’

  ‘Well, not now, obviously. But I always thought I would, one day, if I could. Given the obvious logistical challenges.’

  ‘It’s just, I’ve always known I didn’t but everyone says it changes when you meet the right person. I’m not sure whether it will for me, though. Not really. Although my mate Nadia says it totally does.’

  ‘Nadia’s nailed it. Sorry, Zoë, but she has. Since I met Rex, I’ve been like, totally, marry me. No word of a lie. He’d make my ovaries twang if I had them. I can just see the two of us, thinning out carrots in our allotment while the doggo lies in the shade and the kiddies make mud pies.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. Obviously it’ll never happen, because I’m nowhere near ready to settle down and why would I want to, when there are so many hot men in the world left to bang? But yeah, when I’m ancient – like, your age – and I meet another man like Rex, I might be up for it.’

  ‘Ah, I guess I’m overthinking it,’ I said. ‘I read all this stuff about Cancer men being perfect dads and I kind of forgot that the app’s just meant to be a bit of fun, really. And so’s our date. So I’m daft to be so nervous about it.’

  ‘Daft is right,’ Robbie said. ‘Now pass me those cucumbers and I’ll get grating.’

  Fourteen

  You’ve been facing your fears lately, Aquarius. But sometimes it takes true courage to walk away.